My head felt heavy now, the blood loss catching up to me and elevating my exhaustion. Nausea twisted my stomach as we rode hastily across dark fields—freckled with stray flowers—to escape our rogue pursuers.
The expanse of untouched fields surrounded by thriving forests told me we were far from the inner cities of Avalon, but at the very least, we remained in the kingdom, even if only on the outskirts. Avalon was much too extensive for Hael to have transported me from the innermost city, where the castle and government resided, to another kingdom.
On our rattling, dread-induced journey to evade our pursuers, I had nearly slipped off the horse a few times, resulting in Hael's lean arms stiffening like cage bars against my waist to secure me against him.
I was fighting a tedious battle to stay awake and losing, slipping in and out of it on this violently jerking horse. The ground rumbled from the pressure of hooves pounding against it, and the echoing shouts behind us didn't get any more distant. Or quiet. Terrifying evidence the men had managed to catch up to us despite our head start ten minutes ago.
The horse jerking, the shouts pounding my ears, and the ground passing beneath us much too quickly: the stimulation was too much, and I was almost certain I was bleeding again. That or I was sweating profusely even as the chilly wind stung my skin through my open layers. I was hot everywhere.
Eventually, it became too difficult to remain upright, and I tipped forward. Hael cursed and slipped his usual arm around my stomach, cradling firmly just inches above my wound and keeping me from leaning forward enough that the horse's bobbing head would knock off my own.
To distract myself from the incessant pain, I focused on how astonishing it was that Hael kept us balanced on his horse while leading it with one hand. Was something like that possible? Or was I only imagining it?
I wanted to inquire about his plan. We would outrun the men after me, and then what? Where would we go after we stopped running? What would he do with me? Clearly, he and the men were at least acquainted. They'd called his name, and he'd seemed to recognize them. However, their lack of uniforms aroused doubt that they were affiliated with the same organization as Hael. Perhaps they were merely enemies of his. A man like Hael must have had many.
I lost spaces of time on our run, and when the horse finally came to a slowed stop on the gravelly shore of a lake, my body was ready to give out all over again. There were no more shouts or the rumbling of horses behind us, and maybe there hadn't been for a while. I couldn't say how long we'd been running for. All that reached my ears now was a shy breeze that tickled movement through the thick trees of the surrounding forest.
Our only light was the moon and its reflection off the lake.
A terrible groan left me when Hael slipped off the horse first, the movement jolting my body. He practically carried me off, and I had to push him away afterward when he kept his hands settled on my arms, prepared to hold me upright.
I didn't need his help.
He was the reason I was in this awful position.
Delirious, bleeding, and so overwhelmed that I could not quiet my trembling hands.
"Have a seat," he ordered quietly—softly. I had learned quickly that was his style of speaking, as though his voice could not get any rougher than a whisper or any louder than the quiet beating of one's heart in their ears.
Hael had given me a direction, but I stood for a few dizzying moments anyway, so he did not think I'd sit just because he'd told me to. I would hold onto my dignity, at least. As best as I could, which I was stubborn enough to do since it seemed Hael truly had no desire to kill me. Yet.
Eventually, my legs gave out, and I dropped carefully to my knees on the rocky ground.
Hael began unloading the supplies I only now noticed were secured to his horse. So the chestnut was small, having carried Hael and me and many bags of weight, but it had a lot of strength in its back. Appearances really could be deceiving. I was quietly glad to have remembered so.
Hael unraveled a wide roll of weightless padding and laid it on the prickly ground between us. Carefully, he looked at me, more emotion in his gaze now that we'd just escaped death together. I dearly hoped he didn't think I trusted him now because he'd helped me evade those men. Choosing him had simply been the least gruesome of the two terrible options he'd given me. Or so I had hoped.
"Come here," he voiced. "I need to check your stitches."
I sighed, my voice raw and my throat dry. "I ripped a few of them. Hand me your supplies, and I can tend to myself."
His lips straightened. "I'll do it."
"I don't want you touching me," I declared bravely. A part of me feared he'd punish me for my prickly tone.
"You can't stop me."
"Is that a threat? From the one who promised to keep me safe? I'll feel far from that if you force yourself on me," I said, firming my voice as best I could. I shuddered uneasily at the sight of the indecipherable expression that followed. I extended my trembling hand anyway. "Your supplies. I know you have some on you."
As a boy at my village's orphanage—after the death of my parents—Avalon's most famous doctor would disguise himself and travel to the kingdom's outskirts to reach underprivileged communities. There, he would treat those who could not afford to visit inner-city doctors. He'd come once a week to my village, and every time I would be fascinated with his work. It seemed he'd taken an interest in me, too. A fond, doting interest. By his fourth visit, I was already an apprentice under his wing, learning the techniques of medicine and healing.
I'd learned later that he tended to the royal family and wondered if his fondness for me had led the King and Queen of Avalon to adopt me.
But that seemed bizarre because my doctor would have adopted me himself if he'd truly been that fond of me. I used to want him to.
Becoming a Prince had given me no value, but my passion for medicine and tending to the ill had. And I'd hungrily consumed all the knowledge my beloved doctor had shared, which meant I knew how to tend to myself, which I needed to do because I was still suffering from smoke inhalation and blood loss. The dark fumes and dry atmosphere of my burning home had also dehydrated me, but I doubted Hael could recognize the signs of my ailments.
Very reluctantly, he handed me a velvet wrap. I was met with dull tools when I opened it, and I studied the odd length of the needles. Much too short for body suturing, but they would have to do.
"Not fancy enough for you?" Hael asked, and his tone was almost defensive.
I looked at him, curious about the recent inflection of his voice but not addressing it. I didn't care if my contemplation had hurt a murderer's feelings. Even if he had potentially saved my life.
"Have these been sterilized?" I could finally ask.
"Of course."
"Then they will do just fine."
I requested soap from Hael, and after receiving a bar of it, I scrubbed my dirty hands raw in the shallow lake water beside me, blood and soot dispersing across the surface. I took the time to rinse my mouth out as well, Hael's bleeding still subtle on my tongue from biting him. Afterward, I lifted the needle and attempted to steady my fingers enough to thread it. My garments were already open and soaked in blood, but I pushed them apart further to reveal my torn stitches. Just a few of them.
I didn't believe I'd been stabbed deeply enough to raise panic since I was being tended to early enough, and it was yet another miracle that the person who'd attacked me fled before they could press their blade further into me, provoked by how I'd reached for the covering over their face.
They hadn't been wearing a uniform like the rest of the members in Hael's organization, leading me to contemplate if the person had been united with them or another rogue who took strangely to me.
I grabbed the small scissors, my fingers annoyingly slippery with sweat as I carefully snipped away Hael's stitches. I hated to admit how precise of a job he'd done.
I looked at myself in this crunched position, my stubbornness subsiding only a little. Hael had been right. Because the wound was diagonal on my lower stomach, it would be much easier to suture it lying down. I pressed the edge of my beige tunic to my abdomen, pressing hard enough that white spotted my vision.
"Hael," I reluctantly groaned, the pain tearing through me.
Immediately beside me, Hael's hand came to my shoulder, the touch strangely reassuring now, as though he could make the pain flee. It was repulsive to think that.
"I'm here," he murmured. "Let me do it. I can do it for you."
I nodded reluctantly. Then Hael was shuffling me over to the makeshift bed, which really felt no different than a pile of worn blankets on a bed of rocks. One luxury I enjoyed as a Prince was a comfortable mattress. I had gotten too accustomed to the plush bedding to remember that I used to sleep on hay and hardwood floors as a boy.
I lay down, my bare torso shivering beneath the early spring breeze. Cold now. Hael noticed. He removed his red overcoat and draped it across my chest and neck. I was too cold to protest the bloodied and ripped garment coming over me.
While I studied him, a curious twist of confusion and gratitude furrowed my thin brows. I was supposed to hate this man. Yes, I was sure I did. But he did make it feel odd to do so when he performed these…nice gestures. When he took care of me. I still had yet to discern why he was treating me so well. Maybe he planned himself to auction me off. Or kill me.
My late father had expressed to me many times that any person who would sacrifice the clothes off their back for me during winter was one I should trust.
It was spring, but what now father? Should I trust a man who protected me from the cold but was the reason I was trapped in it? Because of him and his associates, I had no home. No family left to love me.
I let my eyes close as the tears returned. No matter what little we'd been through, I refused to cry in front of Hael. He didn't deserve to see me break. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"This is going to hurt," he said softly.
I tensed. Prepared mentally for the pain, telling myself I felt stronger now. "I'm not delicate. Just get it over with." My words stumbled, betraying me.
The needle pricked my skin, and my body jerked on a moan. I took a deep breath, found holding it helped alleviate the pain a little. "Keep going," I muttered.
"We can take breaks," Hael suggested, his voice gentle in a way that tickled my ears.
I almost laughed at that. "No need. I've endured worse." I was sure the long scar across my face had hurt worse, especially when salt had been scrubbed throughout the gash to clean it thoroughly. My parents hadn't been able to afford a city doctor, so that was all we could have done, even after they'd borrowed money from the neighbors.
The doctor we did have in our village had been competent and trustworthy. However, he couldn't have treated us with expensive materials if we hadn't paid for them. Due to that, I'd witnessed a lot of the sick remain immobilized for weeks too long, or people suffer throughout the setting of their broken bones because pain-relieving mixes were too expensive to hand out to them. That'd been an awakening for my interest in being a doctor. And now that I was in a position of wealth, I wanted to tend to everyone who could never afford one. For no cost at all. I wished to save as many people as possible with God's gift of medicine and the helpful knowledge of my doctor ingrained in me.
I felt deeply in my heart that that was my calling. My purpose.
But my home had been incinerated, and my doctor had either been killed or perished in the fire.
Was there a reason to hold onto this dream when it was no longer possible? And without this purpose to fulfill…was there any reason left for me to live?